


Entanglement

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [120]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:56:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sparrowsverse: Leverage. Magical Connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entanglement

Sophie was the first to see it; it wasn’t surprising. She watched people, watched the spaces around them and the things they did not say.

She watched all of them most of all. The thread was tenuous at first, a mere shimmer of colour growing brighter as it tugged between them.

To her, it was the most beautiful scarlet red.

 

Elliot was the next of them; he felt it, tugging around his wrist, tight when Hardison or Parker were in trouble, a mere warmth when they were at ease. 

He grew to need the texture under his fingers, the gentle tug that said _I’m okay_ or _I need you_ or, more frequently _I want you, here._

To him it was warm like a dying ember, a deep rich glowing red in his mind.

 

Hardison was next. To him, it was a spark, racing along invisible lines, touching each in turn and reporting back, a packet of light and energy. He tapped his fingers quickly, sending out the pulses, getting the sparks in return. _Okay okay help okay._

For Hardison, the sparks were electric, glowing like an LED in the dark.

 

Parker was used to falling at the end of a line, the release and the _snap_ as the tension took her weight against gravity. For her, the line was soft, like a good rope, something she could trust herself to. 

Something that wouldn’t snap, but would stretch and bounce, easing the stress of her freefall.

To her, it was friction-warm, the colour of frost-bitten cheeks and welcoming smiles.

 

Nate was last. He watched them all wind the string through their fingers, around their bodies, around their souls. He picked up the tattered end, red like blood-shot eyes and old leather books, and wove the end into the beginning until there was no end.


End file.
